January 9

 January 9

I have just had a most memorable journey. Exhilarating, but sad. Looking back at wonderful days. and forward to a constant reminder of them.

It was my first venture  out onto Penarth seafront and pier for almost three years, the most turbulent time in my life. 

When I went to live in Sunrise residential home I thought that was the end of my normal life. It was a unique period, one that for those first few pre pandemic months looked positive and welcome but which was to marr the life of everyone.

Sunrise was right for me at the time and it served me well, with care and comfort, but I realised I could not stay on for years, accepting a routine I would come to hate. Hence my decision to change course, to see if I could capture at least a semblance of a life style I loved.

And this morning I proved it. 

After five weeks in my new home and a few tentative trips out on my scooter in bitterly cold, wet weather, the sun was shining. 

And I decided it was the day for my journey to the past.

After a brief visit to the town centre and some shopping I returned to the already bustling sea front.

Penarth, I soon realised, was alive, booming in fact. I drove along the Esplanade. It was a revelation. The widened pavement was crowded with visitors enjoying coffee in the bright sunlight, Shore, the upmarket gift shop where we had bought pictures for our Windsor Court flat was crowded. 

Along the Esplanade restaurants where we had enjoyed celebrations are flourishing after the pain of lockdowns, with attractive new ones. There were members on the Yacht Club balcony -  my next after renewing my membership.

Then back along the front, and onto the pier. So many memories of  old family photographs going back many decades, of Mum in her wheelchair of buying ice cream for the children.

There was a queue at the snack shop, and at the end of the pier a score or more anglers sitting happily and patiently in the sunshine, reviving  the saddest of my memories, where three years ago Rosemary’s ashes disappeared into the sea.

Looking towards the shore I picked out the flat where we spent fifteen happy and eventful years

It was time to go. The sadness was softened by the realisation that there is still so  much to look forward to, so much to be grateful for. And, a reassuring thought, manybmore more happy memories.